


Only Happy When it Rains

by Pineau_noir



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: hp_drizzle, Fluff, Getting Together, HP Drizzle Fest 2020, Humor, M/M, Rain, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:47:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26486647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineau_noir/pseuds/Pineau_noir
Summary: Weather-Be's, the up-and coming business of Draco Malfoy, guarantees* perfect weather for your event! If you need warm sunshine, Weather-Be's will provide it. If you want atmospheric fog, we can make that happen. We have a 100%** success rate at giving you the weather you want.*guarantee invalid if Harry Potter is in attendance**success rate drops to 97% when Harry Potter's attendance at events is counted
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 32
Kudos: 243
Collections: HP Drizzle Fest 2020





	Only Happy When it Rains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xanthippe74](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xanthippe74/gifts).



> For the prompt:
> 
> Draco has a business that guarantees perfect weather for outdoor events. After a series of disasters in which events he's been hired for were ruined by sudden storms, Draco finally makes the connection: Harry Potter was a guest at all of them.
> 
> Xanthippe, i hope you like it! I'm a big fan of yours so I was really excited to grab your prompt.
> 
> Thank you so much to the mods, this was the first fest I really got into as a reader so it was wonderful to be able to participate this year. Drizzle is such a great fest and I'm so thankful to you for running it.
> 
> As always, A, I could not have done this without you. You're amazing and I bow to your beta skills. I'm so very lucky to know you. Thank you so much ❤

In the twenty-nine years Draco Malfoy had been on earth, there were exactly two things he had done of which he was proud. Sure there were things that he didn't hate, things he took great joy in having accomplished. But nothing stood up to the pride he felt when he looked at his son, Scorpius, or went to an event for his business, _Weather-Be's_ , slogan: "The weather’ll _be_ what you want for your special occasion." And yes, it was horribly clichéd, but Luna Lovegood had bestowed it on him at her wedding and as that event had led to the beginning of the success of his business, he'd kept it as a tribute.

In any case, his former slogan of ‘Wizard’s Weather Services promises to use cutting edge Arithmancy and Potions to deliver the desired meteorological results for the needs of any occasion’, was, admittedly, rather dry. Draco did miss the days of being able to call it WWS, but Weather-Be’s had a nice ring to it. At least that was what Luna assured him.

And honestly, Draco was a former Death Eater, his family had been at the forefront of Voldemort’s dark regime, and the Malfoy name had been synonymous with sinister happenings. So, if quite possibly the most twee person in the wizarding world had been supportive of said business and had suggested something silly to drive business, Draco was astute enough to take her advice.

Weather-Be’s had indeed taken off after Luna’s wedding to Ginny Weasley and the subsequent name change. Draco didn’t know if it was because of the rebranding, because of the write up in _The Quibbler_ after the wedding, or if it was because of Draco’s success rate. The Lovegood-Weasley wedding had put Draco at ten for ten on perfect weather. After that, he'd been booked every weekend for multiple events and even once, booked by the Ministry for Magic.

Weekend bookings meant that Draco was free during the week to be a dad. Scorpius was eight and the light of Draco’s (and Narcissa’s) eye. Draco had never meant to get married and have children, but when Astoria Greengrass had needed a way out of her family’s clutches, Draco had tried to be braver than his teenage-self and had promptly proposed. They'd never expected to find love, what with Draco being incredibly gay and Astoria having no interest in either relationships or sex, but she had offered him an heir. Through Muggle means, of course. They'd very dutifully gone to a Muggle fertility clinic and had done achingly gauche things in little rooms with peeling wood panelling and magazines of Muggle women with unbelievably impossible breasts. Narcissa had stopped her little ‘hints’ about having a grandchild and the Greengrasses had stopped pestering Astoria about being a ‘proper’ wife. All in all, it had been an extremely satisfactory arrangement. The love that Draco had developed for Astoria had been both unexpected and so very welcome. The blood curse, however, that had taken her life when Scorpius was five had been one of the lowest points of Draco’s life.

But Draco had found, again, that he was nothing if not resilient. He'd reinvented himself for a third time, this time as a widowed father to a young child. He had mourned for months, thankful that Scorpius’ public school had kept his son occupied and not able to see Draco break down and have to rebuild himself. But rebuild he did. An owl from Headmistress McGonagall had planted the seed that later turned into Wizard Weather Services. A few years later, and Draco was incredibly happy with his life. He had a thriving business, an amazing son, friends, both old and new, and the recognition that he had done his best to make amends for his past behaviour. 

However, everything changed on a random Wednesday in May.

Rain was coming down in buckets. Draco had been contracted to control the weather for Mrs Zabani’s latest wedding. Usually, Draco didn’t do weekday bookings but Blaise had asked for a favour. And who was Draco to refuse one of his oldest friends? So he set up all of his spellwork, set the potions up at the correct points, and planned for a lovely, sunny, wedding. But then, of course, it had all gone tits up. 

“Draco,” Blaise drawled, “does your magic not work during the week?”

Throwing his hands up in the air and letting out a grunt of frustration, Draco looked at the drenched wedding guests and the bride-to-be. She was glaring at her son. Or Draco. Maybe both. No matter what, she wasn't happy. 

“I swear, this has never happened before, Blaise! I have the maths to back—”

“Yes, yes, I know about all of your equations and statistics about how successful you are at this. But Salazar, Draco! I’m never going to hear the end of this! Every holiday, Mum is going to bring up,” Blaise’s voice went up an octave, “that time your little friend ruined my wedding’.” Blaise let out a huff. “Like this is her _first_ wedding!” He rolled his eyes, shrugged, then grinned. “If I play my cards right, I may be able to dine out on this for _months_.”

Draco scoffed. “You’re as rich as I am, Blaise. Why do you want free meals?”

“You know as well as I do, Draco darling, that food bought with other people’s money just tastes better.”

With a sigh, Draco shook his head and tried to hide his smile. “You’re incorrigible. I don’t know why I put up with you.”

Blaise held up a long finger. “I’m gorgeous.” He held up another finger. “I’m hilarious.” A third finger went up. “I’m ever so cultured.” A fourth. “I’m gorgeous,” he repeated. 

Draco muttered, “You’ve said that already.” 

Blaise’s thumb joined the rest of his fingers. “You want my arse so badly, you can’t sleep at night.”

Draco took Blaise in, from the top of his tightly curled hair, past his broad shoulders and narrow waist, down his long legs, then back to the slight bulge of his cock and thought. He considered the warmth of Blaise’s dark skin, his blinding smile, the little lines that were starting to show around his eyes, how his cologne smelled like old money and sex. Then he wrinkled his nose. 

“Nah,” Draco admitted. “You don’t really do it for me.”

Blaise’s eyes got big and his mouth dropped. “I’m sex on a stick!” he insisted. “I’m a sex stick! I—”

His tirade was cut off by the appearance of his waterlogged mother. “Blaise,” she said angrily. “You said _he_ ,” Mrs Zabini shot Draco a thoroughly unimpressed look, “had assured us perfect weather.”

“I’m so sorry,” Draco said. “I will, of course, reimburse you for my fee, and I’ll cover the cost of cleaning your robes and I can—”

“Save your money, Mr Malfoy,” she said in a cold voice. “You’ve been a good friend to Blaise so I won’t ruin your business, but rest assured I will never attend an event where your services have been contracted.” 

She gave Draco one last lingering look and Disapparated away.

“Fuck,” Draco said on a wheeze. “That could have gone a lot worse.”

Blaise nodded. “I guess that’s the sixth reason you put up with me. Someone has to keep all the scary mums at bay when you’re around.”

——

Later, after Draco had packed up all of his equipment and made his way back to his flat, he wondered what had gone wrong. In all of the panic of there being rain when there shouldn’t have been rain, he hadn’t even started to try and wonder what had caused the disturbance. He went back over all of his equations, ran through the potions he had brewed, and came up with nothing. 

Draco was pulled out his musing by his mother who had Floo’d back to her home as soon as she'd seen him dripping and with frustration clear on his face. She had once told him that he was a fully grown man and if he wanted to have a strop, he could very well do it on his own time.

“Why are you wet?” Scorpius asked after Narcissa had left without a word. “I thought you were doing a We-Be’s event.”

“Please don’t call it that,” Draco said with a groan.

“But the WWN calls it—”

“I don’t care if the sodding Minister for Magic calls it ‘We-Be’s’,” said Draco with a grimace. “The name is ridiculous enough on its own. Please just call it Weather-Be’s.”

“Sure, Dad,” Scorpius agreed easily. But he had a glint in his eyes that Draco recognised and it did not bode well.

Draco spelled his hair and clothes dry and tried to tame the waves he always got before he used styling potions and sighed. “I did have an event,” he admitted. “And I’ve no idea what went wrong. I used the equations I’ve always used. I don’t think any of my potions ingredients have gone bad. The lab is as clean as it has always been.” Letting his shoulders slump, something that would have driven his father spare, Draco sighed again. 

"Cheer up, Dad," Scorpius chirped. "I'm sure it won't happen again!"

——

Scorpius' prediction turned out to be true. A month went by with no incident, though Draco had checked things four times before each event, and Draco started to relax. A little. The second month after the _Zabini debacle_ , Draco felt comfortable in only treble-checking them. Another month and Draco went down to double-checking his data and potions. By then, Draco was having to turn down events because he couldn't attend each event himself and he was seriously starting to consider looking for an apprentice. 

He was going to see Luna at an event, late on Sunday, and he wanted to ask her what she thought about the idea. Blaise and Pansy always had been supportive of Weather-Be's, but Draco felt like running most of his major decisions by Luna. There had always been something about Luna that separated her from most people, and Draco found the older he got, the more he appreciated her unique take on things.

Draco got through all three bookings on Saturday without a hitch. He treated himself to a double gin and tonic in celebration and went to bed happily. 

He only had two bookings for Sunday, but they were both large gatherings so they inevitably took longer. The first event was a retirement party for a member of the Wizengamot and Draco had been on edge the entire morning. His second event was for the Holyhead Harpies and, though stressful, didn't have such esteemed guests as the Minister for Magic, various department heads from the Ministry, and several foreign diplomats. 

However, in his relaxed state, Draco must have mucked something up because instead of a nice, warm, breezy August day, it was raining. Heavily.

"What the fuck, Malfoy?" was how Ginny Weasley greeted him. 

Her uniform was plastered to her body and her short wet hair hung into her eyes. Draco could still feel the power of her glare through her sodden appearance. 

Before Draco could answer, Luna walked up. "Lovely weather, Draco," she said with a smile. "I've always thought people should spend more time in the rain."

Draco let out a small shriek as thunder cracked behind him.

"Cancel the bloody spell!" Weasley shouted.

“I can’t!” he shouted back. “The life of the potions are made so they lock in the weather for the life of the event—”

“Fine!” Ginny replied, frustrated. She threw her hands in the air and stormed away. 

Draco heard her announce something to the crowd then there was the sound of multiple Apparations. Luna was still standing by his side. She had closed her eyes and tilted her head up so the rain ran down her face in an unbroken wave.

“This is rather lovely, Draco,” she said after a moment.

“It’s supposed to be sunny for your wife’s—”

“She’ll get over it,” Luna replied.

“But—” Draco started.

Luna cast an _Impervious_ over Draco and walked over to take his hand in hers. Her hand was wet and cold from the deluge, but still comforting. She looked at Draco and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Draco,” she said, soft against the roar of the rain. “Things are going to be fine. It’s rain. It’s not the end of the world.”

Draco let his shoulders slump. “The whole point of the business is to guarantee perfect weather,” he said.

“Yes, but every set of data has its outliers. How many times has this happened?”

“Two,” Draco said, grimacing.

“And how many events has Weather-Be’s been a part of since my wedding?”

Draco had to think on that. “At least a hundred?” he estimated. 

“That still leaves your success rate at ninety-eight percent.” Luna reached out to cradle Draco’s face in her hands. Luna’s hands were cool against his face, which Draco was willing to admit was flushed with anger and embarrassment.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Draco,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to retrieve my wife. I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything rash.”

She turned away before Draco could ask how she was going to manage to curb a _Weasley_ , but he thought she probably had some idea as they'd been a couple for several years. 

Looking around at his equipment, Draco let out a sigh and settled himself in for several hours of brooding in the rain.

——

Harry Apparated back to The Burrow laughing. “I thought you said Malfoy was good at his job,” he said to Ginny.

She was pacing and muttering to herself, working herself up into a proper fit.

“ _Luna_ said he was good at his job,” Ginny gritted out. 

As if summoned by her name, Luna Apparated into the edge of the orchard where Harry and Ginny were talking.

“Are you talking about Draco?” she asked.

Ginny’s face got even redder at the mention of his name. “Yes!” she half shouted. “You said he could _guarantee_ —” 

Luna didn’t say anything, she just walked up to Ginny and gave her a kiss on the forehead. A gesture that was only slightly marred by the fact that Luna was soaking wet and her hair dripped all over Ginny’s body. She moved down to kiss the tip of Ginny’s nose then placed a sweet peck to her lips.

“He is good at his job, Duckie.”

Harry struggled to keep his face neutral. He must not have been successful if Ginny’s glare was any indicator. 

“Not a word, Potter!” Ginny said, stomping off.

Deciding the battle was already lost, Harry let himself laugh. Luna caught his eye and laughed with him for a bit. 

“I don’t envy you that fight,” Harry said.

“Oh, we won’t fight about it, Harry,” Luna assured him. “We’ll just talk about it and she’ll realise that sometimes things happen and there’s no use in getting mad about it.”

Harry shook his head, thinking about his ill-fated relationship with Ginny. He was glad she and Luna had gotten together. After Harry and Ginny had taken a break during the war, they hadn’t ever been able to make things work after it ended. They had remained close friends, but the spark had died between them and Ginny had admitted he'd become more like another brother than a boyfriend. 

Harry had been relieved. He hadn’t been in a good mind frame for a long-term relationship. Plus he'd started to think that maybe he also fancied blokes so he was thankful he had some time to sow some wild oats. In the ensuing years, he had dated both men and women and wix who didn’t identify as either. Harry had turned from the Wizarding War's poster-child to the poster-child for the new queer movement in the magical community.He really didn’t care for being a poster-child for _anything_ , but at least he felt helpful talking to people coming to terms with their sexualities and gender identifications.

While Harry was deep in thought about relationships and Ginny and everything, Luna had walked away, leaving Harry dripping and bemused outside of the Weasley’s home.

“What are you smiling about?” Ron asked as he walked out the door, Hugo on his hip. “Ginny stormed in muttering about Malfoy and rain and then I look out and see you wet and staring into space.” 

He sent a gentle Hot Air Charm at Harry, drying him. Harry nodded his thanks.

“Merlin, Harry,” Ron said with a frown. “Mum’s worried you’ve gone round the twist.”

Harry reared his head back a little. “I’m sorry, am I supposed to be _sad_?”

Ron rolled his eyes and let Hugo down. The boy toddled off, making his way straight to a patch of weeds, then grabbed some and tried to stuff them in his mouth.

“Hugo,” Ron said, exasperated. He walked over to his son and picked him up. “We only eat plants Mummy and Gran feed us,” he said. “They _insist_ they’re healthy.”

Harry snickered, thankful dad duties had pulled Ron’s attention. But then Ron turned back towards Harry.

“I haven’t forgotten about you,” he said, pointing at Harry and putting Hugo back on the ground, trying to direct his attention away from the weeds. 

“You’re just out here being weird, mate,” Ron pronounced.

“I’m sorry?” he asked. “I’m being weird? Have we met? I’ve always been weird.”

Ron let out a little chuckle. “Yeah,” he agreed nodding. “But you’re especially weird right now.” 

Hugo started to make his way back towards the weeds, but Ron intercepted before he could get there.

“Malfoy was there,” Harry admitted.

Groaning, Ron picked Hugo up again and lifted him up , making the boy laugh, high and musical. “Your Uncle Harry needs to let go of his obsession with the pointy git,” he said then lowered Hugo so he could kiss his belly. “Harry, Malfoy’s not ‘up to something’ anymore,” he said over Hugo’s giggles. “Auntie Luna swears he’s given up his juvenile delinquent act.” 

Harry couldn’t hear the rest of what Ron said after that. Hugo’s shrieks of laughter were too loud. 

Furrowing his brows, he crossed his arms. “Don’t think he’s ‘up to something’,” he said, petulant. 

Ron either ignored him or couldn’t hear Harry over Hugo. 

“I _said_ —” 

Ron looked over and rolled his eyes. “I heard you, Harry. But you are sort of obsessed with Malfoy.”

Harry pouted a little.

“What was your problem with him this time?” Ron asked, gently lowering Hugo to the ground again.

“I don’t have a problem with him,” Harry muttered. Then, “ _He’sfit_.”

Ron turned towards Harry, his eyes big and his mouth open a little in shock. “I’m sorry?” he asked. “Did you say you think _Malfoy_ is fit?” He turned towards Hugo who had successfully made his way back to the weeds and was grabbing them, shoving big hunks of plants into his mouth.

“Hermione,” Ron bellowed, seemingly not caring that his son was eating wild plants. “Harry said he thinks Malfoy’s fit!”

“Don’t embarrass our best friend, Ron!” Hermione shouted out the kitchen window. 

Harry couldn't hear the next bit that she said but it sounded suspiciously like _it’s about bloody time_.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Harry shrieked. 

Ron _finally_ noticed that Hugo had his mouth stuffed with dirt and grass and groaned.

“Hugo,” he said. “Mate.” He picked him up and started pulling things out of the boy’s mouth. “Must you?”

Hugo blew a raspberry at Ron when his mouth was finally empty. He wriggled, trying to get back to the grass.

Shaking his head and biting back a smile, Ron said, “Futility of existence.”

“For him or you?”

Ron looked at Harry and winked. “Everyone.” 

Then he swung Hugo up onto his shoulders and started making Thesetral noises and doing a little gallop. Hugo let out a bright peal of laughter as they started back towards the door and Harry had no choice but to follow.

——

After the hustle and bustle that was involved in a meal with the Weasleys, Hermione found Harry in the kitchen, cleaning up. 

“So, Malfoy…” she started.

“Ugh,” Harry grunted.

“I was only going to point out how much he’s changed,” Hermione replied lightly.

“I know,” Harry grumbled.

“His son is Rose’s age and we’ve seen them around Diagon.” 

Harry ignored her pointed stare.

“We don’t have to—”

“Thank you,” Harry said, feeling rude at interrupting, but thankful Hermione was willing to drop the subject.

“He’s just an option,” Hermione said. She walked to Harry and reached up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “If you’re happy alone, that’s one thing.”

Harry sharply turned his head to glare at her, but she only smiled back.

“We all just want what you want for yourself, Harry.”

“Well if you’re going to be reasonable about it,” Harry said, with an exaggerated sigh. 

He felt himself start to smile and had to turn back to cleaning up because if he encouraged Hermione, she would mother him as much as Ron and Ron was enough of a mother hen for Harry.

Later, having Floo’d home, Harry was stuck wandering around Grimmauld place, out of sorts. 

“Why are Ron and ‘Mione so obsessed with Malfoy?” he asked his sitting room. 

Predictably, it had no answer. Deciding to move on, he walked upstairs to clean his teeth and change into his pyjamas. It was still on the early side, but Harry had eaten, he wasn’t planning on having company, and reading in bed was becoming an appealing option to ending his day. 

He slipped into an easy sleep after finishing a few chapters of the mystery he was reading and in the morning, he had almost forgotten about Malfoy.

——

A few weeks went by before Harry _really_ thought about Malfoy again.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Harry groaned as the skies opened and rain beat down on him. He cast an _Impervious_ which, sadly, only reduced the downpour by about thirty percent. Rushing back to the castle, Harry took a moment to enjoy being back at Hogwarts. 

Professor McGonagall had asked him to come to consult with the staff about the feasibility of starting an LGBTQ+ club. Coincidentally, the house elves had planned a big picnic on the grounds after his meeting. Something about a ‘back to school event’ since the fall term had started only a week prior. Everything had been sunny and clear when Harry had first arrived. From the staff room, Harry had watched some big fluffy clouds pass by and he’d been looking forward to spending the afternoon outside. But as soon he was a few metres past the entrance, the sky had turned dark and then he and most of the students and staff of Hogwarts were soaked.

“Alright there, Harry?” Neville asked as he walked in with the Gryffindor First Years in tow. “Feel like drying off in the Common Room?”

Harry took in Neville, still smiling even whilst soaked from head to toe. Nodding, Harry said, “Yeah, that sounds great actually. I haven’t been back there for an age.”

Neville threw his arm around Harry’s shoulder and laughed. “C’mon!” he said loudly, but kindly “The house elves are making hot chocolate.” 

A small cheer went up among the children and Harry smiled. “Can you believe we were ever that small?” he asked quietly. 

Neville smiled back and shook his head. “It astounds me every year,” he admitted.

They made their way to the Gryffindor Common Room in no time and soon Harry was warm and dry and enjoying a cup of hot chocolate that had ‘a little something special’ in it, according to the house elf who had scurried away as soon as she pushed the mug into Harry’s hands. 

“Shame about today,” Neville murmured, looking at the children who were settling into the squashy sofas and chairs in big groups. All of the Fourth Years and younger were chattering excitedly about the sudden rain while the older teens were striving to act _cool_ about everything among their contemporaries. They might have been fooling their fellow students, but Harry could see right through them all.

“So is sudden rain something that happens now?” Harry asked.

“No!” Neville insisted. “In fact, Minerva usually gets in touch with Malfoy, you know he’s got that weather company, and it’s perfect outside. I can’t tell you how many outdoor events we’ve been able to hold because she hired him. He must have been busy today.”

Harry felt his face scrunch up. “Is his company _really_ that good?” Pausing, he thought about a politic way to proceed. “It’s only that when Gin hired him for a Harpies event, it rained.” Then, remembering the afternoon, he added, “Almost as much as it rained today.”

“Oh yeah,” Neville said, forcefully. “He’s so successful that when the announcement goes up that Weather-Be’s is coming, the students cheer. I’m sure you remember how cold and damp Scotland gets, especially in early spring. When Malfoy comes, it’s warm and sunny, everytime.” Neville smiled. “He’s also turned into a sort of decent bloke, you know. He’s got a son now and seems to have changed his ways. He even apologised.”

Harry let out a little hum of annoyance. “Yeah, he sent me a letter,” he admitted. “And ‘Mionie says his son is Rose’s age.”

“I’m not saying you have to ride off on your broomsticks into the sunset—”

“Have you been reading Molly’s romance novels?”

Neville rolled his eyes. “Just because it’s got a happy ending doesn’t make it _lesser_ literterature, or—” he shuddered— “ _women’s_ —” 

“Neville!” Harry interrupted what was surely the start of a rant, clearly a sore subject. “How exactly do you think I know about the happily ever after?”

Slumping a little, Neville answered, “Do you read bodice rippers too, Harry?”

“Well, generally it’s more about two blokes…” he trailed off. “But yeah, they’re fun.”

Neville looked at him with a poorly disguised smile at the blush Harry knew was on his face.

“How exactly did we get to me and Malfoy riding off into the sunset?” Harry asked, biting back a laugh.

“You knob,” Neville said, fondly. “I was saying you didn’t have to.” Harry watched Neville’s next thought cross his face. “But you know, he _is_ gay.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I don’t need setting up.”

——

Draco was pacing in Professor McGonagall’s office. Scorpius kept sending him concerned looks.

“Are you OK, dad?” he asked.

Letting out a sigh, Draco walked to Scorpius and took in his dripping hair and the frown he was failing at hiding. Draco waved his wand and dried the boy off, then sat down and pulled him into a hug.

“I’m frustrated, Scorp,” he admitted. “I don’t know why my spells keep failing.”

“No one’s perfect,” he answered, hugging Draco back. 

They both turned when they heard someone clearing their throat. It was McGonnagall and Draco felt his cheeks flush.

“Professor, I’m so sor—”

She held up a hand, easily silencing Draco’s imminent apology. “Mr Malfoy, there’s nothing to apologise for. Magic can be fickle. Especially magic that’s as delicate as yours. We have contracted your business, how many times?”

“A lot!” Scorpius answered. “Dad’s always extra excited when we get to come to Hogwarts.”

McGonagall smiled, clearly charmed by Scorpius. “I’m glad to hear that.” She focused her attention on Draco with a more serious look. “One of the lessons that is of most importance is to learn how to fail.” She raised an eyebrow and Draco could only nod.

“Yes, Professor,” he answered quietly, feeling like he was risking detention with Filch again. There was something about being back in the Headmistress’ office that made him feel like he was fourteen again. Fourteen and plotting against Potter.

It was only because he was staring so intently at the floor that he missed her next gesture, but he heard Scorpius start to laugh and he looked back up at McGonagall. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Draco, must we be so formal? You’re free to call me Minerva.”

“It’s just weird,” he admitted.

She let out a fond laugh. “Whatever makes you most comfortable.” Walking to her desk, she made herself comfortable and said, “Hobsey?”

A house elf popped into her office and bowed. He was well dressed in a miniature suit and tie and Draco realised he must be a free elf.

“Might we have some tea and biscuits?”

The elf nodded and answered, “Yes, Professor. Hobsey will be right back,” then he Disapparated. 

“Will you stay?” Professor— _Minerva_ asked Scorpius. 

Draco could feel his son nodding energetically. 

“That would be lovely, thank you,” Draco answered.

——

Deciding even the worst of moods could be cured by tea, Draco was in much better spirits when he went out to gather his equipment. Minerva, _Professor McGonagall_ , Minerva—switching names made his head hurt—had offered to sit with Scorpius so Draco could go out alone and maybe figure out what had caused the rain. 

He had retrieved all of his cauldrons when Harry Potter walked out of the castle.

“Malfoy!” he half-shouted.

Draco let out a sigh. “Yes?” he asked, already dreading Potter’s response. 

“You _are_ here!”

“Well spotted.” Draco made his voice as dry as possible. “Is there something I can assist you with? I’m trying to gather my things so my son and I can head home.”

“Can I help?”

Draco was suddenly rooted to the spot. He looked around the clearing and then back at Potter. Potter who was merely standing still, hands in his pockets, and a small smile on his face.

“Why?” he asked abruptly.

“It’s only that I’ve been talking to Luna and Neville and Hermione and they all have good things to say about you now and I want to—” he looked down at his feet and gently kicked at the grass, something Scorpius did when he was flustered. “I want to get to know you, I guess.”

“Why?” Draco repeated. “We’ve always hated each other.”

Potter reared back his head. “I wouldn’t go so far as _hate_...” he trailed off with a frown.

“Are you forgetting the time we tried to kill each other in an abandoned bathroom?” Draco turned, not wanting to relive the worst years of his life and frowning from the shame.

“Are you forgetting the times we saved each other?” Potter asked quietly, suddenly closer. “Look, I don’t mean to dredge up the past, but it _is_ in the past.” 

They stood in silence for a few moments. Just as Draco was about to storm back to the castle and collect Scorpius, Harry spoke again. “I got your letter.” 

Draco cleared his throat. “I meant it all,” he said. 

“Right!” Potter said with a small amount of false cheer. “Let’s start things over again.” 

Draco turned around and Potter was only a metre away, his hands still in his pockets, a wry grin on his face. He stuck his hand out rather awkwardly and Draco raised his to shake.

“Who decided this was the way people should greet each other?” Potter muttered. Then, after shaking far too long, he said, “I’m Harry Potter, but you can call me Harry.”

They were still shaking hands and Draco had no idea what to do with a friendly Potter. 

“I’m Draco Malfoy.” He looked down at their hands. _Yup_ , definitely too long for a normal hand shake. “You can call me...Draco?”

“Nice to meet you, Draco,” Potter said, _finally_ letting go of Draco’s hand. “My friends say you own your own business and have a son.”

Draco let out a sigh. “Potter, no.” 

Potter frowned. 

_Merlin_ he was going to have to change another name in his head. “ _Harry_ , I’m all for starting over but we cannot just ignore our pasts.”

Harry shook his head, making his wild hair somehow even wilder. “Fine.” He scowled and Draco felt a flicker of amusement. They were at _Hogwarts_ and Potter was grumpy.

“Some things never change,” he said.

“What?” Harry asked.

Draco let out a sigh and smiled. “I was just thinking about how, even when we’re trying to be friendly, we still annoy the pants off of each other.”

Harry let out a laugh, a true laugh, at that. “Let’s change that then.” He looked back at the clearing. “Now tell me how I can help you with your weather gear.”

“Equipment,” Draco said without thinking. 

Harry laughed again and Draco couldn't keep the smile off his face. 

“Equipment,” Harry replied. “How can I help you with your weather equipment?”

Harry, Draco decided, was a much better helper than Scorpius. That was to say, there was nothing wrong with his son, but the attention to detail and just _strength_ of a full-grown man was far superior to those of an eight-year-old. Within minutes, Harry had helped Draco gather the rest of his thing and stow them in his work trunks. Harry caught Draco’s eye and smiled at him.

Feeling suddenly shy, Draco turned back to the castle. “Thank you, Po— Harry,” he said, starting to walk away. But he could hear Harry’s footsteps behind him, so he assumed he could hear. “I need to collect my son before Profess— Minerva, gives him too much sugar and he never sleeps again.”

Harry laughed again and Draco felt himself blush. He had never imagined being the focus of Harry Potter’s attention in a positive manner and he was a little out of sorts with how warm it made him feel. 

“You’re welcome,” Harry answered. Then, “Hey, maybe one day you can bring Scorpius out to Ron and Hermione’s and they can play with Rose and Hugo. Rose is at a Muggle primary school and she doesn’t know many magical children outside of her cousins.”

“That’s very forward of you, Harry,” Draco said, a little breathlessly.

“What?”

“Inviting me to the Granger-Weasley household without asking them first.”

“Nah,” Harry said, but his cheeks were turning a lovely shade of red. “We all talked about it before,” he murmured, almost too quietly for Draco to hear.

“I’m sorry, but my son and I are a topic of conversation between you, Granger, and Weasley?” Draco couldn’t keep the incredulity from his voice.

“You just keep appearing,” Harry said. Then he lifted his head and his frown made his lighting bolt scar scrunch up.

Draco was having a hard time keeping a fond look off of his face. There had always been something about Potter that had caught his eye. When they were at Hogwarts, no matter what Harry insisted, they had hated each other. But Draco’s eye was always drawn to Harry; Harry with his messy black hair; his dark skin that made the bottle green of his eyes stand out; his baggy, messy clothes that seemed to dwarf him. Now, ten years later, Harry still looked the same but he dressed a lot better. He was currently in a green henley and dark jeans that fit so well Draco wanted to know who had tailored them. However, Draco was sure they were unchanged from when Potter had bought them off the rack.

“Why are you staring at me?” Potter asked.

“I’m not!” Draco insisted.

“You _were_!” Potter insisted.

“Potter—”

“Harry.”

Draco sighed. “Harry, if you must know, I was merely wondering when you had decided to buy clothes that actually fit.”

Harry blushed again.”Er, “Mionie and Gin help me with my more professional clothes,” he said.

“Professional?” 

“I mean, not everybody is going to look like _that_ ,” Harry said gesturing to Draco.

Raising an eyebrow, Draco looked down at his own clothes. His smart trousers were, in fact, tailored to fit and he knew the dark grey made his legs look longer. The matching waistcoat continued the trend of making him appear taller and leaner than he actually was and the lavender shirt he was wearing brought warmth to his eyes and cheeks.

“I own my own business, Potter, I can’t afford to look like a slob—”

“I just meant you looked nice,” Potter— but Draco decided that if Potter thought he looked _nice_ maybe Draco could learn to call him Harry— said.

Draco felt his own cheeks heat. “Oh, well, then thank you, Harry. You also look nice, um, as well.”

Then, as obviously the universe hated Draco, it started to rain again.

“I’ll just Levitate these for you?” Harry asked and at Draco’s nod, his trunks were bobbing towards the castle. 

“Thanks, Harry,” Draco said, unsure if Harry could hear him over the sound of the heavy rain. 

They made their way as quickly as possible to the castle, but by the time they reached the entrance, they were both drenched. 

“This one’s not my fault!” Draco demanded hotly as they both made it inside.

Harry laughed and Draco couldn’t bite back a smile. “I think you’re in the clear on this one, Draco,” he said, gesturing to Draco’s trunks. “All of your stuff is packed away.”

“Equipment,” Draco reminded him.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Whatever,” he said. “I’ll help you get these to Minnie’s office so you can Floo wherever you’re going.”

“ _Minnie_ ,” Draco gasped.

Harry just laughed at him again.

——

The next day at The Burrow, Harry was sat on the couch with Molly, sipping his tea. Arthur was in the corner reading _GarageBand for Dummies_ , Hermione’s Christmas present to him the previous year. Arthur had started collecting the series of ‘for Dummies’ books the year Rose was born. Ron and Hermione, being new parents, hadn’t had a lot of time for Christmas shopping and Hermione’s father had a copy of _AutoRepair for Dummies_ from the ‘80s. It had been such a hit that for future Christmases all of the Weasley children searched for the most outlandish version. Harry had purchased _Raising Beef Cattle for Dummies_ when Rose was two, but, by far, the most popular was _Magic for Dummies_ that Charlie had found a couple of years ago. 

Molly had even gotten in on the fun, buying him a copy of World of Warcraft for Dummies. Arthur had read the chapter about the _ow to win friends and influence enmies_ aloud and with his exaggerated, upperclass drawl, he’d had the room in stitches. 

“You know, Malfoy’s not so bad,” Harry said, his mind on _former_ enemies. 

Fred cackled. 

“What?” Molly demanded.

“Oh it’s just that Harry likes ickle-Malfoy and now George owes me two Galleons,” Fred said, the _traitor_. 

Hearing a groan from another room, Harry could only guess George had heard the discussion.

“Oh, yes,” Molly said. “Minerva was over for tea last month and was talking about how much he’s changed and what a good father he’s become.” Molly looked at Harry with a smile. “You should invite him over for Sunday lunch sometime. His son is Rose’s age. I’m sure they would have a fun time.”

“Malfoy!” Ron exclaimed with glee as he entered the sitting room. “‘Mione and I were telling Harry—”

“Ugh!” Harry groaned. 

“Why does Uncle Harry sound like a sad trumpet?” Rose asked.

“Trombone,” Ron whispered.

“Why does Uncle Harry sound like a sad trombone?” Rose parroted back.

“Well, when two people love each other _very much_ —”

“Ronald!” Hermione said, walking in with Hugo on her hip. “What have you taught our daughter?”

Rose was on the floor making ‘womp womp’ sounds and giggling.

“It was George!” Ron insisted, his ears red and his eyes big.

“It was _me_!” Fred insisted. “Percy—”

“Was going on and on about something,” George interrupted. “You know how he is, _ministry this, ministry that, I’m a huge_ —”

“If you finish that sentence, George,” Molly said sternly, “you’ll have no pudding.”

“Mum!” Fred exclaimed.

“Thanks,” George said, pulling his twin under his arm in a half-hug.

Rose shouted, “Pudding!” and Molly shushed her.

“You’ll have dinner first, Rosie,” Molly insisted. She looked at Harry. “And _you_ —” she said pointing at Harry— “You will invite the Malfoy boy and his son to Sunday lunch.” 

Harry let out a grunt of disapproval. 

“You can moan and groan all you want, Harry Potter, but I’m not doing it for you.” She looked around at her collected children. “I’m not saying we’re all suddenly pro-Malfoy,” Arthur let out a snort from his corner. “But the boy was just a child when everything happened. And I need to see him in person to know if he’s actually changed or if it’s all just an act. If we can mend fences between our families for the sakes of the next generation, that will be a good thing.”

Fred and George started a slow, exaggerated clap that quickly turned into cheering. Molly tried to scowl, but the effect was ruined by the pleased look on her face. 

“Hush you two,” she admonished.

“I’ll send an owl,” Ron said. 

Harry looked to Ron who was beaming at his mum. “I’m not dating Malfoy just because you all like him,” he grumbled.

Molly poked him in the side making him squeak. 

——

After dinner, Harry went to Ron and Hermione’s to have a drink. The kids were in bed and Harry was enjoying being in his spot on the sofa. It was warm and cosy and Ron had good alcohol. Ron was sprawled out beside Harry, watching the fire while Hermione was in a squashy chair across the room looking at some files from the Ministry.

“I did actually invite Draco over for a playdate,” he admitted when he was half-done with his firewhiskey. 

Hermione snorted.

“What?” he asked, affronted. 

“I don’t want to date Malfoy,” Ron said sarcastically. “But you’ll invite him to ours without even a ‘hey mate, can I invite my nemesis to play with your first-born?’”

“It was _your_ idea!” Harry insisted. He looked to Hermione for back-up.

She was biting back a smile. “Whatever makes you happy,” she tried, then lost her battle to giggles.

Harry sighed. “I’m glad my life is so amusing.” But he couldn’t stop his answering smile. “He was decent when I saw him at Hogwarts. Not nearly as much of a prat.” Then, he couldn’t help himself and added, “Even if it did rain _again_.”

“I don’t understand why that keeps happening,” Hermione said with a little frown. “I’ve been keeping up with his business and I’ve only heard good things. Molly’s not the only one who met with Minerva. She says he’s changed a lot since our school days.”

“I should hope so,” Ron said. Then his face turned thoughtful. “He’s widowed,” he said with a frown. “From all accounts, it seems like they actually loved each other. I’m sure he took her passing hard.” Ron looked at Hermione and Harry could see his heart start to break at the thought of losing Hermione. “Wouldn't wish that on anyone,” he whispered.

“He is a good father,” Hermione added. 

Biting his lip, Harry thought about what his best friends were saying. “I still don’t want to be set-up.”

“Just see how the play-date and dinner at Mum’s goes and if you’re smitten then I get one, solid ‘I told you so’, and if you’re not, you get one.”

Harry watched Hermione shake her head. “Boys,” she said smiling.

“Send him a letter, mate,” Ron said, and Summoned some parchment and a Biro.

Owling Draco Malfoy was something Harry hadn’t ever anticipated doing. However, under the watchful eyes of his best friends, he was now doing that very thing. 

> Draco,
> 
> Ron and Hermione are free next Saturday afternoon, if you’d like to bring Scorp round. And Molly wants you to come to a Sunday dinner one weekend. Let me know when you’re free for that. 
> 
> Harry

He gave it to Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon, somehow still as lively as he was when Ron got him Third Year. Harry settled back on the sofa in the sitting room to spend more time with his friends before he had to go back to Grimmauld Place. Within half an hour, Pig was back with a response. 

Harry felt his forehead crease into a frown. But he couldn’t help but let out a snort at Draco’s insistence on his son’s name. 

> Harry,
> 
> Thanks for the invite. **Scorpius** and I would be happy to come to the Granger-Weasley residence next weekend. We can be there at three, if that’s acceptable to you all.
> 
> I must admit, I don’t know if I’m ready for a house full of Weasleys right now. We should see how the smaller gathering goes first.
> 
> Regards,
> 
> Draco

“What did he say?” Ron asked with poorly concealed glee.

“He says he and Scorp will be here at three next Saturday,” Harry responded almost in a haze, still frowning. 

“Well, then we will see you all on Saturday,” Hermione declared. “Now, go home. I have to work in the morning and Rose has school which means we’re all up early.”

“OK, ‘Mione,” Harry said. He went over and gave her a hug then pulled Ron into one as well. “I’ll talk to you both later and I’ll be here Saturday before Draco gets here so we can talk strategy.”

“Harry, we do _not_ need to talk strategy for Draco Malfoy and his son,” Hermione said as she walked out of the room.

“So you’ll be here early?” Ron asked with a grin.

“Of course.”

——

Harry spent the next week in meetings and Floo conferences. After Hogwarts, he had taken a few years and lazed around Grimmauld Place, eventually becoming so tired of the rundown atmosphere of the old house that he hired a construction crew to gut it and start from scratch. After _that_ , he did a few odd jobs for the Ministry, helped Hermione with a couple of projects, annoyed Ron in the Auror department, hid in the stock room of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes for a few months, and ultimately decided to dedicate his time to causes he believed in. It wasn’t a long-term solution for his life, but it was something that got him out of bed for the time being. 

After meetings about war orphans, how to better relationships between werewolves and wix, and his pet project—setting up centres for at-risk youth—he was happy for Saturday to arrive.

“Ron!” he shouted as he Floo’d into Hermione and Ron’s lounge. “Why did we invite Malfoy over?”

Hermione walked in with Rose. She took one look at Harry and rolled her eyes. “He’s bringing his son to play,” she said, aggravated

“Hugo!” Ron’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. “Food is for your mouth, not your hair!”

Rose let out a giggle. “He doesn’t like mashed veg,” she confided to Harry. She looked at Hermione and made a face. “I’m not too fond of it either,” she said in what was probably supposed to be a whisper.

Hermione rolled her eyes again.

The clock on the mantle chimed _two_ and Harry felt a little wild. “What if he’s still…” he looked over at Rose who had wandered off to the bookcase in the corner. “What if he’s still,” he repeated, “a wanker.”

Hermione let out a little tut. “You’re as bad as Ron,” she said. “He’s fine now. A little sad, quiet, and very dedicated to his son.” She waved her hands at him, shooing him towards the kitchen. “Go bother Ron.” 

——

Draco was cursing under his breath. He had thought Scorpius couldn’t hear him until he piped up with, “Does Grandmother know you use words like that?” and Draco spun around in horror.

“Don’t repeat anything I just said!” he said a little wildly. “At least not until you get to Hogwarts! But even then, keep it to your Common Room!”

Scorpius let out a little laugh. “Don’t worry, Dad,” he said. “I know better than to curse in front of Gran.”

SIghing, Draco looked around his sitting room. He'd been pacing and had caused a little mess in his wake. The corner desk where he kept all of his Weather-Be’s paperwork had been hit especially hard.

“Bollocks,” he muttered. 

Then he grabbed his wand and cast, quickly neatening the mess, even if it didn’t organise the papers the way they should be. 

“We don’t have to go,” Scorpius said.

Draco let out another sigh and went to sit on the sofa with Scorpius. “It’s fine,” he said. “I’m probably blowing everything out of proportion.”

“You?” Scorpius asked. “Never.”

“Cheeky!” Draco said. You’re spending far too much time with my mother.” 

But he saw the distraction for what it was and smiled at his son. 

“Thanks, Scorpius.”

Casting a _Tempus_ , Draco was shocked to see it was only a few minutes until three and he and Scorpius both needed to gather their things and be off.

“Do you have your bag?” he asked, slightly sceptical that anything in there would be of interest to Rose Weasley.

Scorpius hefted it in the air. “Packed and ready, Dad. I can’t wait to show Rose all of the maths and potions you do for We-Be’s.”

“Weather-Be’s,” Draco reminded him with a groan.

“We need to go,” Scorpius said, ignoring the correction. 

He sent Draco a sly smile and Draco couldn't keep back an answering smile. 

Grabbing the bottle of wine and the bag of assorted cheeses and crackers, Draco made his way to the Floo. “The address is ‘Weasley’s Cottage, Ottery St Catchpole’.”

“Yes, Dad, you’ve gone over that like four times.”

“Fine, fine,” Draco said. 

He gestured towards the fireplace and watched as Scorpius grabbed a handful of Floo powder then listened closely as his son, very clearly and precisely, shouted the correct address. Scorpius had only been Flooing alone for a few months, so he was still anxious about having them end up at separate places. But so far, his fears had all been unfounded. Draco grabbed his own handful of powder and braced himself for the journey.

“Dad!” Scorpius said as Draco exited the Floo. “Rose has a graphing calculator!”

“What’s a graphing calculator?” he muttered.

“Some weird box thing that ‘Mione got Rose for Christmas last year. Apparently it’s a Muggle thing,” Weasley said as he walked in with a small child on his hip. He reached out his hand and Draco shook it. “Good to see you, Malfoy,” he said. “Welcome to our home.” He pointed at Rose, “That’s obviously Rose and this little one—” he bounced the boy on his hip, making him giggle— “is Hugo.”

Draco looked at Rose who was already deep in conversation with Scorpius, her curly hair and dark skin tone so much like her mother’s, and then over to Hugo whose skin was a more medium brown, but had dark auburn hair and he smiled. “You have a lovely family, Weasley.”

“Better call me Ron,” Weasley said. “There’s several Weasley’s in attendance today.” 

Draco’s face must have done _something_ because Weasley, Ron, assured him, “Just the four of us and Harry. Don’t worry.”

“Where is Harry?” Draco asked.

“A bit mental hearing you call each other Harry and Draco,” Ron admitted. Then he nodded towards a little hall at the back of the room. “He’s in the kitchen with Hermione, getting some snacks together for the kids.”

Hugo started to wiggle and Ron let him down. “He’s on the move, Rose.”

Rose looked up and nodded. “We’d best put the calculator away,” she said a little sadly. “He’ll just want to put it in his mouth,” she said to Scorpius.

Scorpius looked a little alarmed at the idea of someone putting non-food stuff in their mouth and Draco realised that he really did need to socialise with more families who had children of all ages. 

“Can we go out to the garden, Dad?” Rose asked.

“You’ll have to ask Scorp’s dad,” Weasley answered.

“Scorp?” Draco said, disapproval clear in his tone. 

His son, the back-stabber, giggled. “I _like_ Scorp!” he said in delight. Then he turned to look at Draco. “May I go outside with Rose?”

Draco shook his head but relented. “Yes you may, Scorpius.”

The children ran out the door and Draco could only sigh. “He’s much better behaved at home.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’s very proper,” Ron said. “I’m going to take Hugo out with them, get a bit of fresh air before the sun sets. Do you want to go with us or you can go hang out with Hermione and Harry in the kitchen.”

Draco’s brain stalled at the choice. He felt safer in the presence of his son, but he and Harry were starting this _thing_ and he knew if he spent more time with Harry, their future interactions would be more amenable and one day they might actually call each other friends.

Ron must have noticed his indecision because he nudged Draco towards the door with a, ”Neither ‘Mione nor Harry bite,” then he walked out to the backdoor. 

“OK, so I guess that means I’m going to the kitchen,” he said to himself.

“Malfoy!” Harry’s voice drifted into the sitting room. “Stop being a prat and come help us!”

He walked towards the kitchen and heard some whispers. “Sorry!” Harry’s voice came back. “ _Draco_ , stop being a prat and come help us!”

Draco could hear Granger’s, Hermione’s—damn all the use of proper names—groaning laugh and he fought to keep his face impassive.

“So you invite me over to insult me?” he asked as he finally reached the kitchen. He watched in delight as Hermione smacked Harry in the arm.

“Unfair!” Harry insisted and Draco smirked.

“Smarts when she smacks you, doesn’t it?” he couldn’t quite keep to himself.

Hermione let out a laugh and Draco could feel his face heating up. 

“You deserved it,” she said with an embarrassed smile, dark skin hiding what Draco hoped was an answering blush. 

Harry’s answering laugh delighted Draco and his heart seemed to skip a beat. He didn’t know why he was being affected by Potter’s laugh, but he wasn’t willing to unpack that in the middle of Hermione Granger-Weasley’s kitchen.

“I did deserve it,” he said instead with a wry grin. “That and more. I really must apologise—”

“Must you?” Harry cut in.

“Harry,” Hermione admonished him. “Let him finish.”

“I truly am sorry for all the hateful things I did back at Hogwarts and I don’t know how you’re managing to overlook our past but—”

“No,” Hermione interrupted. “Harry, you were right, a sincere Draco Malfoy is too much.”

Squaring his shoulders, Draco glared at Potter.

At his look, Hermione rushed to explain. “No, it’s just that we corresponded after the war and as far as I’m concerned, if you’ve changed as much as you seem to have changed…” She trailed off with a frown. “This is awkward and I don’t like it,” she grumbled. “I’m not supposed to be the uncomfortable one.”

Then she shrugged her shoulders and looked at Draco. “If you’ve truly changed and are actually sorry, then let’s start over.”

“That’s what I said!” Harry said with a smile. 

“I am actually sorry and I hope that I’ve truly changed,” Draco said, forcing himself to look Hermione in the eye.

“Then welcome to our house,” Hermione said. “Would you like something to drink? Tea? Water? Some wine?”

“Tea would be nice,” he replied.

“Harry, make Draco a cup of tea,” Hermione 

Harry grumbled, but did as bid leaving Hermione’s attention solely on Draco. He fidgeted where he stood.

“Tell me about Weather-Be’s,” Hermione implored, obviously seeing his discomfort. “Luna says it’s amazing.”

Draco smiled, a true smile at that. “I honestly feel like Luna’s one of the main reasons it’s been successful.”

“Is it successful?” Harry asked as he handed Draco a cup of tea.

Bristling, Draco asked, “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, it’s just that I’ve been to some of your events and it’s rained.”

“I have a ninety-seven percent success rate,” Draco said, unable to keep the cold tone out of his voice. “The Zabini wedding, the Harpies event, Hogwarts—”

“I was…” Harry interrupted.

“Yes?” Draco asked, as he and Hermione both looked at Harry. 

“I was at all of those,” Harry said with a frown. “It rained! That’s my point.”

“You were at the Zabini wedding?” Draco asked, sceptically.

“Luna was invited and Ginny couldn’t go so I tagged along,” Harry answered.

“So you were at the three events during which my business failed?” Draco half shouted, putting his cup of tea down when his emotional outburst started to make the tea slosh over the edge.

“Yes?” Harry said sheepishly.

Harry flinched as Draco pulled his wand. “Relax, Potter,” he spit out. “I’m just going to run some diagnostic spells to see if you’re the reason it’s raining at my events.”

He waved his wand and muttered under his breath. Casting spell after spell, Draco didn’t let his mind or eyes wander until he found what he was looking for.

“Ah-ha!” he shouted, watching as Harry flinched. Putting his wand away Draco narrowed his eyes. “You’re the reason it’s rained,” he declared.

“That can’t be correct!” Harry insisted. 

“No!” Draco shouted again. “Harry bloody Potter is the reason it rains!”

“Guess you’ll have to add a disclaimer about not guaranteeing the weather if Harry’s there,” Hermione said with a laugh.

Sighing, Draco rolled his eyes. “I can go back through my equations and fix it I’m sure.”

“I can help,” Hermione added. “I’ve been to a couple of events you’ve done and talked to Minerva and the whole process seems fascinating.”

Suddenly there was a crash behind Draco and he heard Ron mutter, “Aw, Hugo, no,” and the moment between Hermione, Harry, and him was broken.

“What’s he done?” Harry asked, walking around Draco to see his nephew and possibly trying to escape Draco’s glare.

“I really do want to help,” Hermione said. “It’s a brill idea, controlling the weather, even in a limited capacity.” She motioned Draco closer and he nodded and walked over to her. “I think Harry might be a little embarrassed that he's the reason it’s been raining at your events. So if he runs away from you all evening, don’t take it personally.”

Draco shook his head. “It’s fine,” he said. “I honestly can’t believe you’re all being so nice to me.” At Hermione’s look, he clarified. “I know Scorpius is wonderful and I appreciate you letting him spend time with someone his age, but I didn’t expect to be welcomed as well.”

“The war’s long over, Draco,” Hermione said kindly. “Don’t be an arsehole and we can all get along.”

“Mum!” Rose gasped as she walked into the kitchen. “You said a swear!”

Draco couldn’t stop his laugh at Hermione’s face. He finally started to think they might all have a successful afternoon together.

——

After a very fun and somewhat horrifying afternoon, Harry finally let himself talk to Draco again. They were in the kitchen cleaning up, just the two of them. Knowing it was because of his scheming best friends, Harry decided to take the moment for what it was intended: time to talk to Draco _alone_. And even if Harry still felt his face warm when he thought about his magic messing with Draco’s business, he tried to force the awkwardness down and start a conversation. From Draco’s smile when he mentioned his son’s name, he knew there was one subject on which they both agreed.

“Scorp is great.”

Which immediately backfired as Draco grimaced.

“Potter if you continue to butcher my son’s name—”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he conceded. “Scorpius is great. He and Rose seem to be getting on well together.”

Draco nodded, charming Harry with his smile and a slight flush to his cheeks. Then he let out a little sigh, his expression changed, and his eyes were sad. 

“His mother was one of the best people I’ve ever met,” he said softly.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Harry whispered back. 

He was in uncharted territory with Draco. They’d never been close, had _never_ talked about their feelings or emotions, but Harry suddenly wanted to wipe the melancholy look off Draco’s face.

WIth a wry smile, Draco answered, “It’s been a few years and it wasn’t unexpected.” 

“Still…” Harry said, waving his hands, not sure what to do with them as he talked to a sad Draco Malfoy.

“Thank you for inviting us over,” Draco said, obviously wanting to move away from talking about his deceased wife.

“It’s been fun,” Harry agreed. “I think Rose is going to want Scorpius to visit as much as he’s able.” 

Harry paused, not sure what he wanted to admit. But he knew he wanted to talk to Draco more. He wanted to learn more about his childhood nemesis and see first-hand how he'd changed and turned into the quiet man in front of him.

“In fact, maybe, er,” he started. “If you’re free one evening, if um, Scorpius comes over here and you’re alone— not that you’d be lonely, I’m sure you have friends, I know Luna said you and Blaise were still friendly,” Harry cut himself off. “ _Bollocks_ ” he said under his breath. 

Draco watched Harry’s verbal rambling with an amused look on his face. 

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to know if maybe if Scorpius came to visit Rose, if you’d like to grab dinner one day,” Harry finally got out.

With an inscrutable look Draco asked, “Why?”

“I like who you’ve become,” Harry said. “And I’d like to get to know you better.”

Obviously not expecting that, Draco turned red again. “Oh,” he said. “Yes, that…” He took a deep breath. “I would like that.” Shaking his head, he added, “I always wanted to be Harry Potter’s friend.”

And, oh. Draco didn’t understand. 

Which was fair, because it had taken all afternoon, several weeks of his friends’ teasing, and a dozen years for Harry to admit to himself that he fancied Draco. He, of course, hadn’t liked him in school, but the more he got to know about who Draco was now, the more he was faced with his feelings. Which said he liked Draco _now_. He thought now-Draco was a good father and well fit and while it was a surprise to be confronted with these feelings, Harry hadn’t gone through years of therapy with a highly regarded Mind Healer to deny himself something that might have a positive outcome. 

“No,” Harry said, gently. “I’d like to take you out, like on a date.”

Draco’s mouth gaped open in an extremely unattractive manner and Harry felt his resolve strengthen. But…

“If you’re not interested, that’s fine! You don’t have to let me down easy, no harm done.” 

Harry held his breath as he watched several emotions cross Draco’s face and steeled himself for rejection.

Finally after a few quiet moments Draco asked again, “Why?”

“I told you!” Harry cried.

“So it’s not as an apology—”

“It’s because I like you, you wanker!”

Draco burst into laughter. Harry watched as he laughed and admitted to himself that had he seen Draco laugh like that when they’d first met, they might have had a different relationship at Hogwarts. Finally he stopped and made an exaggerated display of wiping his eyes.

“Exceeds Expectations for asking a bloke out, Harry,” Draco said and it was the first time Harry felt like he was seeing Harry as _Harry_ instead of just a new version of _Potter_.

Harry could only shrug. He was far too invested in the answer to form words.

“However, I think Rose and Scorpius have already made plans for next weekend. And Blaise is currently abroad with his business and Pansy’s been in France since she got married so yes, I would be alone.” He smirked at Harry and Harry’s heart felt like it skipped a beat. “I supposed it would be tolerable to spend the afternoon with you.” 

“Yes!” Ron shouted from the hall. “Pay up!”

Turning quickly, Harry rushed to Ron. “Did you bet on my dating life?” he whispered. 

“No!” Ron insisted. “We bet on if you would admit you liked Draco.”

“That’s still my dating life!”

“Nah,” Ron said. “We don’t care if you _date_ him. ‘Mione said it was fine if we just bet on you admitting to yourself that you had a pash on Draco.”

Harry could hear Draco laughing behind him.

“How’s that better?” Harry demanded.

“It’s not!” Draco interjected.

“Not helping, Draco,” Harry said, turning to look back at him.

Any thoughts of scolding his interfering friends were forgotten when he looked at Draco’s face. He had a soft smile on his face and he was blushing again. 

“That’s going to be the death of me,” Harry muttered.

“Sorry, what?” Ron asked, unhelpfully.

“Leave them alone, Ronald,” Hermione’s voice came from the sitting room. “You’ve done your part and embarrassed Harry enough. Let them figure the rest out on their own.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Draco said as he and Harry still looked at each other. 

Ron left and Harry and Draco were left alone again in the kitchen.

“So what kind of food do you like?” Harry asked, squeaking at the end of his question.

Draco let out a little giggle. “Everything?” he replied. “This is weird, isn’t it?”

Harry nodded. “Weird, yes, but I want to see where it goes if you do.”

“Definitely,” Draco answered.

——

Draco and Scorpius went home not long after Harry asked Draco out. Ron, Hermione, and Harry had moved to the garden to let Hugo run off his last burst of energy while Rose followed him at a more sedate pace, repeating, “Slow down, Hugo,” in a voice that sounded very much like Hermione’s.

“Told ya it would work!” Ron crowed. He pointed at Harry. “We all knew you liked him!”

“We just want you to be happy, Harry,” Hermione added with a frown aimed at her husband. 

“And that,” Ron said with a little huff. 

Harry let out a little laugh. “Thanks for the vote of approval.”

“Anytime,” Ron said with a grin. “Where are you going to take him?”

Harry shrugged. “Haven’t a clue. Do either one of you have any suggestions?”

“Scorpius said his dad likes fish and chips but they don’t have it often because his grandmother says it’s common,” Rose piped in when Hugo had apparently run himself out and had walked to Hermione and collapsed in her lap.

“C’mon,” Ron said, extending his arms so Rose could curl up with him. She climbed in his lap and snuggled up with him. “You are the _best_ daughter,” he said, making Rose giggle.

“I’m your _only_ daughter,” Rose pointed out.

“Yeah, but you’re the best.” Ron said and kissed the top of her head. 

“You are a big help,” Harry said. “That’s good information, Rosie.”

“I like Scorpius,” she said. “He’s funny. If you and Mr Malfoy get married, Uncle Harry, will he be my cousin?”

Ron let out a snort of laughter at that. “Best let them see if they can go on a date without injuring the other before we start talking marriage.”

Hugo let out a loud cry and started fussing in Hermione’s arms. 

“Plan your date another time, Harry,” she said, but not unkindly. “We need to get the kids to bed.”

“Yeah—” Harry looked at the sky that was rapidly losing all of its pinks and oranges and turning dark blue. “I’ll pop by later and we can talk.”

Hermione stood up, still holding a fussing Hugo, and hugged Harry. “We’ll talk later,” she agreed. “For what it’s worth, I like this for you.”

——

Hardly believing he was going on a date with _Harry Potter_ , Draco stood, fidgeting, by his Floo a week later. 

“Is this the worst idea ever?” he whispered to himself. 

“Dad!” Scorpius shouted from his room. “Do you think Rose will like my mini We-Be’s kit?”

Draco closed his eyes and counted to five. Then he admitted to himself that he had officially lost the battle of what to call his business.

“I think she would,” he said walking to Sorpius’ room. “But there’s no need to shout.”

“Sorry,” Scorpius said sheepishly. “I was just excited.”

Draco looked at his son fondly. He reminded Draco so much of Astoria when he was excited. “It’s fine,” he added. “Well, it’s not really _fine_ but—” Draco smiled. “It’s fine in moderation, I suppose.”

“Where are you going with Harry?” Scorpius asked as he grabbed his bag and jacket and they made their way to the Floo.

“I don’t know,” Draco answered. “And I’m almost afraid to ask.”

Scorpius laughed then grabbed a handful of Floo powder. “I’ll see you at the Weasley’s?”

Nodding, Draco said, “I’m right behind you.”

As soon as the green fire subsided, Draco Apparated to Ron and Hermione’s. Scorpius had reached a level of independence that meant he no longer wanted to Side-Along. But Draco was going on a first date and didn’t want to risk his clothing to the Floo. So, inefficient as it was, they made their way to the cottage separately. Draco appeared in the garden and he could hear Scoprius and Rose talking excitedly when he knocked at the back door.

“Come in!” Hermione said with a smile as she ushered Draco in. Then, “Oh you look nice.” She turned around and shouted, “Harry, Draco’s here!”

“Er,” Harry said as he walked into the kitchen. He stared at Draco for a moment before shaking his head and saying, “You _do_ look nice.”

“Stop sounding so surprised, Potter,” Draco said back. Then he felt his cheeks heat.

Hermione was smiling at them both like he and Harry had done something extraordinary and she was proud of them.

“Enough, ‘Mione,” Harry grumbled. Then he looked at Draco and smiled. “I thought we could Apparate. The closest point is only a couple of blocks away and it’s not too cool yet to enjoy a walk.”

Draco nodded back, suddenly awkward. “Sounds fine, Harry.”

They stood in silence for a few moments before Hugo came running into the kitchen. “Ahhhhh!” he yelled and successfully broke up the weirdness. 

“Yeah, mate,” Ron said as he ran in, right after the toddler. “You’re right and you should say it.” He picked Hugo up and blew raspberries on his belly, making Hugo giggle.

Watching the, no doubt, touching scene unfold with Ron and Hugo was only secondary to watching Harry watch them. Draco rolled his eyes at himself. Watching his date watch people was creepy.

“Shall we?” Harry asked, oblivious to Draco’s odd behaviour.

“Yes, while everybody is calm and we can get away,” Draco agreed.

“Have fun, Dad!” Scorpius shouted from the sitting room.

“Have fun, Uncle Harry!” Rose shouted right after.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “There’s no need to shout!” she shouted. 

Harry gave her a _look_ while Draco bit back a smile. Hermione was unaffected by their faux-disapproval and she winked. 

“Have a lovely night, boys.”

Holding the door open for Harry, Draco followed him out into the cool evening. Harry held out his arm for Draco and they Apparated away.

——

The walk was nice. They were in a _very_ nice neighbourhood, something Draco hadn’t expected.

“Is this a posh place?” he asked. 

Harry shrugged. “We’re in Mayfair.”

“You know I grew up rich, but I have my own flat with Scorpius and we don’t—”

“No,” Harry said. “I didn’t pick it because it’s expensive.”

“Oh.”

They walked in silence for a few minutes.

“Scorpius is hilarious,” Harry said, breaking the slightly uncomfortable silence.

Draco didn’t even try to fight his smile. “He’s everything that’s wonderful about eight-years-old with all of the areshole moments.”

Harry laughed. “He seems so sweet, I can’t imagine him being any trouble.”

Draco took a deep breath. “He’s smarter than I was at that age and twice as kind. But he’s terrible at bathtime. It takes twenty minutes to get him in and then once he’s in, it takes twenty minutes to get out!” Warming to his subject, Draco continued, “And he leaves his trainers everywhere! I’ve tripped on them no less than three times. He’s started shouting from his room, something I’m sure he learned from you and your lot, and he refuses to eat chicken unless it’s breaded.”

“You sound like Hermione with Rose,” Harry said with a little laugh.

“I’m sure.” Draco ignored the scenery and shop fronts to look at Harry while they walked. “I’m glad they became friends. Scorpius only has Muggle friends. They’re wonderful but they won’t ever understand a big part of his life.”

“Yeah, I’m glad they’re friends too.”

They walked the rest of the way to the restaurant and Draco couldn’t keep himself from laughing.

“You brought me to a fancy chippy,” he said, delighted.

"Scorpius said you like fish and chips!"

Draco nodded. “I do,” he admitted. “One of the things I didn’t get as a child, that I now love.” 

They walked into the restaurant and Draco looked around. The black and white checkerboard floor was a little intense but the framed prints of multi-coloured fish on the accent wall were funny. Patrons were seated at a bar area and in a couple of booths with well worn looking wooden seating. There were no empty chairs to be seen. The sounds of forks hitting plates and laughter filled Draco’s ears and the sharp smell of vinegar assaulted his nose. Under that, he could smell the fish and chips and it smelled _amazing_.

“Does it pass inspection?” Harry asked, almost too quietly to be heard over the noise in the restaurant.

“Very much so,” Draco answered truthfully. “But where are we going to sit? It seems packed.”

Harry smiled and nodded to a woman behind the bar. She started walking towards them as Harry said, “We’ve got a private table out back.”

“Hello, Mr Potter,” the woman from the restaurant said. “Welcome to the Mayfair Chippy. I’m Mary and if you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

“It’s outside but I thought we could just cast a Warming Charm and it would be fine,” Harry explained under his breath.

“It’s a little cool outside but we can bring out a space heater if you need it,” she said as they followed her to a small courtyard with wrought iron tables and chairs. Against the building, there was a table set for two with several candles burning bright. 

“We’ll manage without the heater,” Harry reassured her. 

“Wonderful,” Mary said. “Make yourselves comfortable and I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your drink order.”

“Thanks,” Harry said and she smiled at them and walked back into the restaurant.

“I’m impressed,” Draco admitted after he and Harry had sat down in their chairs. “This is a lot nicer than I expected.”

Harry let out a little laugh. “Did you think we were going to grab kebabs and eat on a park bench?”

Shrugging, Draco said, “Honestly? I didn’t know what to expect. So that was one option.”

“What else did you think we might do?” Harry asked, clearly amused at Draco’s thought process.

“Well, I thought you might find some horribly stuffy French place that doesn’t list the prices on the menu and is filled with people who look like my parents.”

Eyes twinkling in the candlelight, Harry smiled. “That doesn’t sound like something that _now_ -Draco would like.”

“ _Now_ -Draco?”

Harry looked down at the menu and avoided looking at Draco. “In my head, there’s Hogwarts Malfoy and now-Draco and they’re vastly different people.” He looked up at Draco, like he knew Draco was going to argue. “I know you’re the same person, you’re still an annoying git.” Harry smiled at Draco’s laugh. “But you have to admit you’ve changed a lot in ten years.”

“We all have,” Draco said quietly. 

He let out a little shiver—not sure if it was from nerves, from the cool air, or from the intense eye contact he and Harry suddenly had—and cast a Warming Charm.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured. “So, yeah, I started calling you now-Draco in my head and it sort of stuck.”

“Tell me about now-Draco,” Draco said with a smirk.

“I will not reward such a blatant attempt to fish for compliments!” Harry insisted. “You tell me about now-Draco and I’ll let you know if I like that about you.”

Their easy conversation was interrupted by their server coming back.

“It’s warmer out here than I remembered,” Mary said. Then, looking at Harry and Draco, asked, “Have you decided on something to drink?”

“Uh,” Harry said. “I’ll —I’ll have a pint of lager, Mary.”

Draco quickly scanned the menu. “I’ll also have a pint of lager, please and the Mayfair Classic to eat.”

“Cod or haddock?” she asked Draco.

“Cod, please.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “I’ll have the same thing to eat.”

Mary looked at them with a poorly concealed grin. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Harry nodded. “Yes,” he said more definitively. “A pint and fish and chips and mushy peas, please.”

“Sounds good,” she answered. “I’ll put your order in and be out in a few with your drinks.

“Cheers,” Draco said as she walked away.

“So,” Harry said. “Now-Draco.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything?” Harry answered. “As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

Letting out a sigh, Draco said, “That’s a tall order.”

Harry had a kind look on his face. “It doesn’t have to be everything tonight. I reckon if we get through this date and want a second, we can always delve deeper.”

“Oh, a second date,” Draco teased. He knew the blush that was covering his face gave him away.

With a deep breath, Draco started telling a revised version of his life since school. He talked about meeting Astoria and their marriage of convenience; “Really, I hadn’t thought to ever get married. I just assumed the Malfoy line would die with me, but the Greengrasses made the Malfoys look progressive”, and the ordeal of conceiving Scorpius; “The tits on the women in the magazines, Potter! They were unnatural!”

They were briefly interrupted by their lagers and food, but after their server left, Draco jumped back into his tale.

“I had to,” he lowered his voice, “wank into a small plastic cup,” he complained. “It was horrible!” 

There was no biting back the smug grin he felt at making Harry laugh.

“That does sound terrible,” Harry said. “Thanks for sharing.”

“Oh, I’m aware I’m over sharing right now, but you did ask for _everything_.”

Harry looked down, grinning. “That I did,” he said to his plate, not looking Draco in the eye.

“Was it too much?” Draco asked.

Looking up, Harry's eyes were hot on Draco. “Not too much, my mind just kind of ran away with the image of you…er...” 

Draco let out a squeak. “I didn’t realise you um, thought about me that way.”

Straightening his shoulders, Harry looked at Draco in the eye. “I find you very attractive,” he said.

The eye contact was too intense, Draco had to look down. “I think you’re also very attractive,” he told his peas. 

A bark of laughter made Draco look up. “Me or your food?” Harry asked.

“Both,” Draco said decisively, making Harry laugh again. “But that’s enough about me for our first date. What has the Boy-Who -Lived been up to since Hogwarts?”

“This and that,” he answered. “Cleaned up Grimmauld Place, helped Ron and Hermione out a bit. Mostly I volunteer now.”

“A man of leisure,” Draco drawled. 

“Something like that,” Harry answered.

But some unspoken agreement, they moved on from more personal subjects as they ate. Harry told Draco about the changes Minerva had made at Hogwarts and Draco talked about Scorpius’ primary school. Then they were both done and waiting to pay. Harry had some sort of plastic card that took care of everything and they found themselves outside.

“I guess—” Harry started.

“So I need to—” Draco said.

“You go,” Harry insisted.

“I was saying, I need to go pick up Scorpius. I don’t know if you were planning on Apparating back to the Weasley’s, but if you were…” Draco trailed off, a little anxious. “I’d enjoy your company on the walk back to the Apparition point.”

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Let’s walk together.”

They were silent the entire walk back, but unlike the walk to the restaurant, it was a warm, comfortable silence. Draco kept stealing glances at Harry and he was pleased to see Harry glancing back. Finally they reached their destination.

“Is this the point where I ask if I can kiss you?” Harry asked. 

Draco didn’t have words to answer, so he leaned in and kissed Harry instead. Harry’s lips were soft and tasted of vinegar and lager and Draco had never felt as good in his skin as he did right then, kissing Harry Potter.

A flash of lightning crossed the sky and thunder boomed, making them jump apart. Before they could react more, it started to rain. Harry leaned back in to kiss Draco again.

“Why does it always rain when you’re around?” Draco grumbled against Harry’s mouth.

“I’m sorry!” Harry insisted. “But I don’t think this one’s my fault!”

“It’s always your fault, Harry.” Draco kissed him again, sweet and warm against the cold rain.

“You’ll have to figure out how to adjust your potions and stuff if you want to keep me around.”

“I’ll work on it,” Draco replied. “I’d like very much to keep you around, Harry.”

Harry held out his arm and Draco took it and they Apparated away.


End file.
